


De Nouveau

by unpopcultural



Category: 10 Cloverfield Lane (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Although I suppose Bill Murray's character did die a lot, But a little darker than that, Deja Vu, F/M, Gen, It's like the film Groundhog Day, Prophetic Dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 04:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6690418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unpopcultural/pseuds/unpopcultural
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are doomed to live it again and again until they get it right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Emmett had been awake for an hour, but not out of bed. Lately, he had been waiting for Michelle to wake up before he attempted any interactions with Howard. He was afraid that without Michelle to distract the older man, Emmett's suspicions ( _more than suspicions now_ ) would be obvious on his face. He had never been good at hiding his feelings, never mind what that quiz in  _Seventeen_ said. So he would spend his mornings reading magazines or staring at the cinder blocks. Sometimes he would look at the bus ticket in his wallet, but usually not. Once or twice he examined the nutrition facts on the food in the pantry and thought about how whoever recorded the numbers was probably dead now.

Emmett straightened back onto the pillow and closed his eyes when he heard Howard's footsteps thunder down the stairs. He could feel Howard's body stop at the opening between the pantry shelves, hear the man's heavy breathing. The hair on Emmett's neck tickled and he tried to keep his eyelids steady.

Howard kicked the side of his mattress. "Get up. It's morning."

Emmett tried his best to imitate a surprised grunt, but Howard had already moved on to Michelle's door, knocking and letting himself in before Michelle really had a chance to wake up.

"Good morning, Michelle!" Howard's voice boomed.

Emmett sighed and rose to his feet, stretching.

Michelle screamed.

Emmett started and leaned his head out into the hallway. "Michelle?" Her scream was wild, like something out of one of those horror B movies from the 1960's that Howard watched. Emmett took a few wary steps into the hallway. Howard was blocking Michelle's doorway, a wall of plaid.

"Why would you _do_ that?" Howard barked at her. "Why would you scream at me like that?"

"I... I..." Emmett heard Michelle's sharp breaths even from outside the room. "I-- nightmare," she gasped.

It took Howard a few moments to respond. "You're safe here," he finally said. Howard's reassurances always sounded like threats. "So I would appreciate it if you would not terrorize us with screaming." His voice softened. "I'm making pancakes."

With that, Howard turned and shuffled back upstairs, squinting at Emmett as he passed. "Pancakes," he repeated.

"Roger that," Emmett said. He waited until Howard was safely out of view before he turned into Michelle's room.

Michelle was sitting on her mattress with wide, almost dead eyes, her fingers white from gripping her blanket. Her chest was heaving.

"Michelle?" Emmett said, taking a tentative step closer to her. "Are you-"

At first, Michelle didn't seem to know he was there. After a few seconds, she finally seemed to register him and a hand immediately went to her mouth. She began making some sort of noise that might have been the word "no."

"Look, uh, I'm sorry that he woke you up like that." Emmett swallowed. Michelle continued to stare and whimper. "I'm gonna... I'll leave you alone if you want. Do... do you want me to go?"

Michelle rose to her feet, still clutching her blanket. "Houston."

"What?"

Michelle quickly closed the distance between them and brought a shaking hand to his face. Her skin felt too warm.

"You're _alive_ ," she croaked. With that, she collapsed onto him in a sort of hug. Emmett could feel her heart hammering.

"You weren't expecting that?" He tried to keep his tone light, but something about Michelle's behavior was deeply disturbing. Could she have been exposed to contamination while working with the shower curtain? Should he even be touching her right now?

Emmett was about to pry himself off Michelle when she replied, "It was a realistic nightmare. So realistic. I... I can't explain it."

"What was it about?" He relaxed slightly. "You know, I always have this dream about a guy chasing me with a chainsaw, but I'm the only one who can see him."

Michelle finally let go. Her eyes were damp. "I don't know if I want to tell you mine."

"Well..."

"Howard shot you," Michelle blurted. "And then... And then..." She looked up at the ceiling as if seeing through it. "And he was right."

Emmett's insides twisted. "He was _right_?"

"Space worms," Michelle said. "Howard was right about the space worms."

"That's pretty wild," Emmett said, forcing a laugh.

Michelle didn't laugh. Instead, a look of terror dawned on her face. "Emmett!"

Emmett cocked his head.

"Where are the scissors? The things you took from the kitchen? Where are they?"

"Under my mattress." It was their go-to method of hiding things.

Michelle shoved him slightly. "Go check. Please. I know I sound crazy but I really need to know."

Emmett backtracked to his little nook and crouched down, lifting the mattress an inch from the ground. He swept his hand under the space. He did it again. And again. "What the fuck?"

Michelle had crept up behind him. Emmett turned around and her face was pale. "They're gone, aren't they?" she whispered.

His head was swimming. "Could they be in your room?"

"They're not in my room."

"They have to be here somewhere." Emmett shook his pillow as if they would fall out of it. "They can't just disappear."

"They didn't disappear, Emmett."

They stared at each other with identical expressions of dread.

"What do we do?" he asked. She was the smart one, after all. She was the one who came up with the plans.

 Michelle knelt beside the mattress and glanced over it. "Look, I'm not the type of person to believe in... anything, but something about my dream... I knew. Howard has our stuff." Her head snapped up. "I can't let him kill you again."

"I don't know if he would--"

"Of course he would do it," Michelle snapped. "How could you think he wouldn't? You saw the earring, didn't you? You saw the photo." Her face crumpled up like she was holding back tears. "I saw him do it."

Emmett deflated. "So what do we do?"

Howard's voice floated down from the kitchen, startling them both. "Pancakes are ready!" 

Michelle looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. "We kill him before he kills us."

 

 

Breakfast was quiet. The pancakes felt like cotton in Emmett's mouth. He kept glancing at Michelle, but her eyes were resolutely downward. She had put on the Paris t-shirt that had once been Megan's ( _had it_ _?_ ).

Howard was all cheer and good graces. He had started up the jukebox and was nodding his head along to the song, beaming at his two disconsolate companions. Emmett's stomach clenched when he realized why. It was because Howard  _knew_. He was enjoying this, getting off on having the upper hand. Howard had never liked Emmett much. Even when he had worked for Howard building the shelter, Howard had never really liked him. Found him useful, maybe, but never liked. Emmett was just too naive to realize it until now.

"So what are your plans for today?" Howard asked, looking in Emmett's direction. Howard smiled.

"Well," Emmett said. "I think I might watch one of those movies you have here.  _The Breakfast Club_? That's a good one."

"And you, Michelle?" Howard asked.

Michelle started. "I, um, I think maybe I'll watch a movie, too."

Howard stood and began collecting dishes even though most of the pancakes were still untouched. "I like that we can do things together, as a family. It's important to do things together when we're living here."

"For sure," Emmett agreed weakly. Michelle nodded.

"It's a nice feeling to be able to trust other people," Howard continued. He turned to put the dishes in the sink. He hummed as he scrubbed one of the plates.

Michelle eyed Emmett. "Now?" she mouthed.

Emmett froze. He couldn't let her do this. She was the one who was supposed to get out of here, not him. He began shaking his head furiously, but Michelle had already leapt out of her chair. In one graceful movement, she sprang forward and lunged at Howard's belt.

Howard yelped, swinging around. Michelle scrabbled for the gun at his waist. Emmett jumped to his feet and looked for something, anything, he could use as a weapon. In his panic he grabbed a fork from the table and, racing forward, thrust it in Howard's direction. It dug into the back of Howard's neck. Howard howled and grasped Emmett's good arm, twisting it until it popped. Howard threw Emmett to the floor, where his head made hard contact. Emmett's vision sparkled, dimmed at the edges, swirled. In the haziness, he thought he saw a puzzle piece beside him.

A million miles away, Michelle was screaming, crying. There was a loud sound and then Michelle was lying next to him, blood pouring down her face. Emmett tried to reach out and touch her, but there was another sound and then nothing.

 

 

When Howard woke up Michelle the next morning, she screamed.


	2. Chapter 2

Howard clamped his hands over his ears when Michelle screamed.

"Why would you  _do_ that?" he asked gruffly, eyes narrowing. "Why would you scream at me like that?"

Michelle gasped for air.  _This isn't right this isn't right this_ \--

"You're safe here," Howard continued, then waited for her to say something.

"I had a nightmare," Michelle croaked when she was finally able to breathe, suppressing the scrambled mess of voices in her head. Dream residue. "Sorry."

Howard mentioned something about breakfast, about pancakes, but Michelle wasn't listening. She was staring at her hands in front of her. She had expected them to be shaking, but they were still.

It had been the most realistic of nightmares. As a child, she had had nights like that, dream upon dream that seemed so real she wasn't ever sure when she was awake. It had happened a few times before she left Ben, too. Now that she thought about it, the nightmares were usually a sign of her unhappiness. It made sense why they were happening here.

But still... There was something different about these ones. Michelle remembered a fight, she remembered blood, she remembered pain ( _can you feel pain in dreams?_ ). And before that, she remembered acid, and fire, and-

"Houston," she murmured.

"What?"

Michelle started. Howard had apparently left during her reverie, and now Emmett was standing in his place by the door. Seeing him brought a warm feeling to her chest... relief. But why?

"You okay?" Emmett asked.

Michelle shook her head, feeling hot tears well up in the corners of her eyes. She hated crying in front of people, _hated_ it, so she flung her arm over her face to hide it from Emmett.

Instead of leaving, Emmett crossed the room and crouched next to her mattress. Through the cracks in her fingers Michelle saw him reach out with his good hand. He then thought better of it and made an awkward waving motion instead.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he asked.

Michelle sucked in a shaky breath and shook her head. "No... Yes... I just don't know what to say that doesn't make me sound crazy." At that, she managed a laugh. Nothing was funny, but it felt good to laugh, so she did it again.

Emmett managed a smile and sat down next to her. "There's a lot of crazy down here, Michelle," he said in a low voice. "But believe me, it ain't coming from you."

Michelle lowered her hands and studied Emmett. He was wearing his blue t-shirt and baseball cap like he did most of the time (not that any of them had an extensive wardrobe). Emmett averted his eyes at Michelle's intense gaze and picked at the corner of her mattress.

"I keep having dreams that we die," Michelle said, feeling the tears cool on her face. Emmett looked back up at her, meeting her eyes. "Sometimes it's me, sometimes it's you... Sometimes it's both of us."

"What about Howard?"

Michelle snorted. "Sometimes he does, too. It's just that they feel so real, and then I wake up and I'm here, and you're here, and..." She pointed vaguely upward. " _He's_ here. It's like I can't leave."

"We can't. Not yet." Emmett squinted at her. "We're trying though, right?"

"I just think we need to be quicker. I'm afraid that Howard's suspicious."

"Well, what do we do then?"

"We can't attack him," Michelle said. "He's too strong for us, isn't he? Too powerful?"

"It's two against one, though."

Michelle shook her head. "It doesn't matter. He has a gun and we don't. And the acid."

"Acid? What acid?"

Michelle paused, blinked. "I... don't know. But the point is, we can't overpower him. So we have to outsmart him."

"Outsmart?" Emmett scoffed. "I don't know if you forgot this, but I never went to college."

"That doesn't mean you're stupid." Michelle placed a hand on each of Emmett's shoulders. His eyes widened but he said nothing. "Listen, Emmett, I have an idea, but we'll have to do it today. No more waiting around."

 

 

"Howard, there's a rat in my room."

Howard turned from the stove and frowned at her. "That's impossible. Nothing could have survived the outside."

He was wearing an apron that was stained suspiciously in red. It was probably jelly or ketchup, but it chilled Michelle. Still, she kept her composure and shrugged. "Well, it's there. It must have been here this whole time. Maybe it's been eating our food."

"Do you want me to do something about it?"

Michelle sighed, softened her voice. "It's just that I'm really scared of rats. They kind of freak me out, and I just figured that you're used to it. Didn't Megan ever ask you to kill spiders for her?"

"Megan never wanted me to kill anything," Howard said softly, looking over Michelle's shoulder at nothing. "Just... show me where it is and I'll take care of it."

Michelle grinned. "Thank you  _so_ much. I just knew I couldn't sleep soundly down there if I knew a rat was in my room."

It took all her willpower to keep herself from looking at Emmett, who was sitting down at the table. Howard took notice of him, however.

"Why don't you have Emmett do it?" Howard asked. "He's not busy."

"Uh... no, I'm not," Emmett agreed.

Michelle leaned closer to Howard and whispered, "If you want me to be honest, I don't know if he'd be able to do it. Could you please just help me?"

Howard sighed and nodded. "All right. Let's get this over with before the pancakes get cold."

He led Michelle to her room. Michelle glanced back at Emmett and gave him a small nod. Emmett didn't look happy.

 

 

"It was there just a few minutes ago."

"I don't see anything. Are you sure it was a rat?"

"Yes." Michelle hovered near the door.

Howard lifted the mattress. Nothing but cold floor underneath.

"Michelle, I think you were imagining things."

"Please, Howard, just look around one more time. I'm scared."

Howard scooted aside the nightstand a second time.

"There's nothing--"

_BANG._

"No!" Michelle gasped.

"What the hell was that?" Howard asked. He rounded on Michelle. "It sounds like something's in the vents."

Michelle nearly choked. "The--the rat, maybe."

"There certainly  _are_ a couple of rats in here." His face was reddening at an extraordinary rate.

Howard reached a hand out toward her, but Michelle ducked out of his reach and slammed the door behind her. It wouldn't last long, not if he had his keys on him, but it was better than nothing. She gripped one of the shelves and sent it crashing down in front of the door. It all felt very familiar, but there was no time to worry about deja vu. Michelle scrambled for the shower curtain suit they had stashed under Emmett's bed before breakfast, then raced to the living room to join Emmett in the vents.

Michelle threw the hazmat suit in first, then gripped the vent opening. Her fingers slid on the metal. "Emmett!" she screamed. "Help me!"

"Shit, sorry, hold on." came his voice. Suddenly his hands were around hers, and she was being pulled up and into the air duct.

"Your arm," Michelle said once she was fully inside. "That must have hurt. I'm so sorry."

"It's all right. I got the canned air."

"Thanks."

They were in an awkward position, facing each other, with no good way to move. Michelle was lying on top of the hazmat suit, and her feet were too close to the opening for comfort.

"Howard's coming," Michelle said. Her heart was pounding. "We need to go."

"I know." Emmett struggled to slide himself backward. He was bigger than Michelle and could hardly squeeze through. Michelle ended up pushing on his shoulders to move him, but they had only progressed a few feet when they heard Howard's shouts and stomps from the living area.

"He'll kill us," Michelle cried, still pushing Emmett.

"Not you," Emmett said. "He's not gonna hurt you."

Emmett hadn't finished his sentence when Howard stabbed through the vent, through the shower curtain, into Michelle's stomach.

Michelle screamed. She tried to wrap her hands around herself but she couldn't.

The knife came again, this time missing its target. The next time, it caught Emmett in the side.

 _"Fuck_ _,"_ he growled.

"We can't move fast enough," Michelle said, heaving.

"Come on," Emmett insisted, now dragging Michelle as he shimmied backward.

They reached the bend in the duct that led to their salvation, each of them receiving another stab from Howard. Michelle was bleeding all down the front of her shirt now. She felt faint. Emmett wasn't as bad off as she, but the side of his neck was wet with blood.

"Can you make it?" he asked, his voice shaky.

Michelle nodded, but when she attempted to stand, a searing pain from her stomach stopped her. "I can't."

"We're so close, Michelle. We're gonna get out of here."

Michelle groaned and stood again, reaching up and gripping the ledge.  _You're going to die if you don't do this_. She ignored the pain in her stomach and lifted herself, finally collapsing on the cold surface in front of her. Her eyes closed. She heard Emmett saying something, but she couldn't quite... understand.  _Don't fall asleep_.

"Shit," she hissed, then began dragging herself the rest of the way there.

 

 

"Michelle. Michelle!" Emmett's voice.

Michelle opened her eyes. She was lying on the floor of the little room, the one with the window marked "HELP."

"What?" she said, her voice hardly more than a whisper.

"Oh, thank God." Emmett was there with her, crouched over her, covered in blood. His blood? Her blood? "You passed out."

"How did I get here?"

Emmett laughed, slightly hysterically. "You did it yourself. That was... you're amazing."

"We made it."

"We made it."

"Emmett." She gestured toward the front of her shirt. "I don't know if I can go any further."

Emmett shook his head. "Don't say that." He was holding the canned air. "I just need to break the lock."

Michelle felt her head swimming again. Next thing she knew, Emmett had flung his shirt at her.

"Try to stop the bleeding," he said. He was standing on top of the ladder now, looking down.

Michelle nodded weakly and balled up the t-shirt, pressing it against the wound. She groaned in pain but kept her eyes open.

Emmett shook the can and pressed the button on the top of it to spray. A slight hissing noise emanated from the bottle, but nothing more. Emmett turned to stare at her.

"It's empty."

Michelle said nothing.

"I can try to use the bottle to break it."

"Emmett, come here."

"But--"

"Just please come here."

He reluctantly descended the ladder and sat down next to her on the floor.

"The can's not going to break the lock. You can try... later. But listen--"

"Michelle--"

"Listen, I'm losing too much blood and I just... I don't want to be alone."

Emmett was trembling. "You were supposed to be the one to get out of here. I never expected to."

Michelle choked back a sob. "It doesn't count unless we both do."

"It counts to me if you make it out." Emmett sighed. "I just thought I could finally do something good without fucking it up."

"None of this is your fault," Michelle said, rolling onto her side so he wouldn't see her cry. Funny that it still mattered to her now. Her vision was dimming. Her ears felt like they needed to pop.

Emmett lay down behind her and wrapped an arm around her body. "I'm sorry." He was warm.

"You were the only thing that made this place not hell," Michelle whispered. "At least this way I can go on my own terms, right?"

"Michelle..."

"Better luck next time?"

She may not have said the last part out loud. Everything was fading out and she squeezed Emmett's hand and then that was the last thing she remembered.

 


	3. Chapter 3

The fourth time, Howard murders Emmett again. Michelle overturns the bucket of acid onto the electrical cord, and neither she nor Howard survives the flames.

 

 

The fifth time, Michelle kills Howard, but not before he shoots her first.

"I love you," Emmett says, holding Michelle as she bleeds out onto the kitchen tiles.

Michelle isn't sure if he means it or if it's a desperate attempt to revive her. She doesn't respond.

 

 

The sixth time, Michelle wonders how many ways one person can die. She wants to give up, just lie down on her mattress and wait for the inevitable pain, but Emmett's face is so worried and so sincere that she tries anyway.

Emmett and Michelle escape the bunker, but there is only one hazmat suit, only one air filtration mask. When the gas rains down, Emmett shoves the mask at Michelle. She nearly makes it to Houston this time.

 

 

Michelle has stopped screaming when Howard wakes her up, back from the dead again and again. 

She is running out of options.


	4. Chapter 4

"We can't fight him," Michelle said. "We can't outsmart him. What does that leave us with?"

Emmett shrugged weakly. Michelle had described her nightmares ( _visions?_ ) to him, and he had to admit that most of the outcomes seemed pretty likely, except maybe the one with the aliens. Real visions or not, it was time to make a decision, but neither of them could fathom anything feasible. "Too bad we don't have room to outrun him."

Michelle leaned her head back, resting it against the wall. She rubbed her temple. "Can we reason with him?" She glanced over at Emmett and, upon seeing his expression, sighed. "Of course we can't."

"He's like a wild animal," Emmett said. "With rabies. My dog had rabies. It's like you expect him to act like a normal dog, and then he does these things that are so unexpected you just can't do anything to prepare yourself."

"Yeah..."

"We had to shoot him," Emmett added. "The dog, I mean."

Michelle stood up and rested her hands on her hips, staring moodily at the door. Suddenly, she shrieked and kicked the pillow off her mattress. "I'm so fucking tired of this!" She balled up her fists, her chest heaving.

"Hey... hey! Be quiet!" Emmett hissed, raising his good hand in defense in case Michelle directed her fury onto him.

 Michelle covered her mouth, looking as surprised as Emmett felt. "I'm so sorry."

"Did Howard hear that?"

They both waited for a moment. Howard didn't call down to them.

"Thank God," Emmett whispered.

Michelle emitted a strangled groan. "I don't know what to _do_."

Emmett chewed on his bottom lip. "In all of your nightmares, or whatever, do we assume that Howard knows about the suit?

Michelle nodded. "Well, he suspects us, at least. Maybe he doesn't know about the suit exactly, but he knows something's happening. Not even just in the dreams; he knows  _right_ _now_. Where else would the scissors and tape have gone?"

Emmett looked up at her thoughtfully. "What if we pretend that we're making something for him? Like a surprise gift?"

The idea was so ridiculous that Michelle had to laugh. "What, like a _Father's Day_  present?"

"I'm serious. I know it sounds dumb, but listen. You know how he sees you, don't you?"

Michelle grimaced. "As his prisoner?"

Emmett shook his head. "He thinks you're a little girl, Michelle."

Michelle sank back down onto the mattress. "Yeah, I know."

" _His_ little girl. What did he call you? His 'princess'?" Emmett made a face.

"But what could I be making him? It's not like we can use the shower curtain; he'd freak out."

"You don't have to actually  _have_ anything made," Emmett replied. "That's the great part. We just use it to explain why we have the supplies. We  _wanted_ to make him something, but we haven't had the time yet."

"He'd never believe that."

"He might believe it. From you."

Michelle shrugged noncommittally. "And then what if he believes us? Do we just go on tiptoeing around for the rest of our lives, hoping we don't do anything to upset Howard? Emmett, he has it out for you. Any little slip-up, any little  _hint_ of a slip-up from you, and that's it."

"Has it out for me," Emmett echoed. He supposed he'd known that already. He was getting in the way of Howard's sick little family dynamic, after all. Still, it was startling to hear it out loud.

"We can use it to buy time, maybe," Michelle murmured. "Get him to lower his guard. Then we wait until he's sleeping and--"

Emmett interpreted her silence as hesitation. "It'd be like putting down a rabid dog," Emmett said, although the idea of actually killing someone chilled his blood, even if it was Howard. "You can't feel bad about doing that."

Michelle looked at him, her eyes dark and heavy-lidded. "Oh, I don't feel bad about it at all," she said. "I've done it before."

For the first time since meeting Michelle, Emmett was afraid of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it has been a month since I've updated. I'm so sorry about that! Thanks to anyone who is still reading. This chapter is a bit short but I wanted to get at least something posted. I have half of the next chapter written already. We're getting close to wrapping things up.


	5. Chapter 5

Pancakes. Fucking pancakes.

They sat around the table, eating. Emmett decided that if this went well and they survived, he would never eat another pancake again for the rest of his life. Although, Emmett reasoned, he could make that same promise if he didn't survive.

"Howard," Michelle said eventually, setting down her glass of orange juice. Emmett suddenly noticed that she had changed into the Paris t-shirt. "Emmett and I have something to tell you."

Howard side-eyed Emmett suspiciously, then turned to Michelle with a much fonder expression. "What?"

"Well, we--Emmett and I--are really, really thankful that you let us stay here," Michelle began. "I mean, you saved our lives, Howard. We wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for you. We wanted to do something to show our appreciation, so we were going to make something for you."

Howard did not say anything, but he scrutinized Michelle with a wary eye.

Michelle sighed. "The thing is, we had to go behind your back and take some supplies to keep your gift a surprise. And I guess we must have misplaced them, because we can't find them..." Michelle looked down, her hair falling into her face. "And now your gift is ruined."

"We're really sorry," Emmett chimed in. His heart was thumping, but he was impressed by how casual he sounded.

Howard squinted, steepling his fingers in front of him. Emmett sweated under his gaze. "The scissors... and the tape?"

Michelle's eyes widened in a perfect imitation of delighted surprise. "You found them?"

Howard looked slightly uncomfortable. Like he had gas, Emmett thought. He didn't dare make that observation out loud.

"What on earth were you making?" Howard finally asked.

"You don't want to ruin the surprise, do you?" Michelle said.

Emmett could  _see_ Howard thinking. Now he understood why people described thinking as wheels turning in the brain. There was some sort of subtle movement in Howard's face, although it might have just been a pulsing vein.

"I'm the kind of person who doesn't like surprises," Howard said after a moment of concentration. "Surprises are for the unprepared. And I am  _prepared_ , more than anyone else. More than both of you were before I saved your sorry behinds." He stood up. "I appreciate the the sentiment, but you're not getting back the supplies that you stole from me. I don't care why you did it. We all need to trust each other or this arrangement isn't going to work out. Keeping secrets is a dangerous thing. Something bad could have happened if you hadn't confessed. So I need to know-- What were you making, and did you steal anything else from me?"

"We didn't," Emmett blurted at the same time Michelle said, "A scrapbook!"

Both men looked at Michelle. She blinked and said, "Yes, a scrapbook. You know, to like... celebrate our time here together. So we could look back on things. I've been, uh, looking at those magazines you gave me, Howard, and I was going to cut things out and put them together and--and make it look nice." Her eyes darted from Emmett to Howard. "And Emmett was going to help. I know it sounds cheesy, or whatever, but I've studied fashion, and I know how to make things. The only bad part was that we didn't have any photos together, but I thought maybe I could save, um, mementos and things like that. So we never forget."

Howard frowned. "That's a waste of time, Megan."

Emmett shared a horrified glance with Michelle, but Howard did not seem to notice his mistake.

Howard shrugged. "That's sweet of you, though." He sat back down. "But no more sneaking around. Let's enjoy our breakfast. If you two  _really_ want to show your appreciation, then tidy up the living room. Just because we live underground doesn't mean we have to live like animals."

 

 

"Does it have to be tonight?" Emmett whispered. They had been standing in Michelle's dark room for the past thirty minutes, waiting for the right time to enact the rest of their plan. Perhaps it was his military background, but Howard was a strong proponent of "early to bed, early to rise." It was nearing 9:30, which meant soon Howard would vacate the living room like he did every night. The problem was that they did not know how long it took Howard to fall asleep, how light of a sleeper he was, and where he kept his gun at night.

"Can you keep going on like this?" Michelle replied. "He's already suspicious."

"Well, maybe we should give him a few days to calm down, then."

"Emmett, if you don't want to help, you can stay here, but--"

He cut her off: "Don't be like that."

"We can't be hesitant," Michelle insisted.

Emmett sighed. "We're _killing_ someone. I know I said it's like putting down a rabid dog, but it feels different now that we're about to. And I know you say how dangerous he is, but outside of your dreams, we don't know for sure if he's hurt anyone."

"Then where did that earring come from? I can't believe you're doing this now!" Michelle hissed.

Emmett swallowed and scuffed his foot on the ground. He always did this, didn't he? Tried to take the easy road all the time, even when he knew it was wrong. "Look, it's just hard," he admitted. "I know you're right. We _do_ have to do it... It's just hard. I'm a coward, Michelle. You already knew that."

"No... I didn't mean it that way. You're not a coward. Sorry." Michelle's hand slid into his and squeezed. They were quiet for a few minutes. "I'm scared, too. I'm not a monster, Emmett. I don't _want_ to kill him. I just don't want..." She paused. "You know... it was really difficult for me when you died."

Emmett almost laughed. "I gotta admit, that's a really weird thing to hear someone say."

"Everything about the past few days has been really, really weird." Michelle said. "The worst part about it all is that I might wake up tomorrow morning and have to do this all over again, even if we are able to kill Howard."

"What? You really think so?"

He felt her shrug. "Maybe. We've never both survived the day, so this is already an improvement. Still, though, I just have this feeling that we're not getting it  _right_ if we just go to bed without confronting him. I feel like I have to at least try to do something."

They lapsed into silence and ended up dozing off and on, leaning their backs against the wall. With the scarce amount of cell phone battery Michelle had left, she set an alarm for 3:00 AM. That was a safe time, they decided. Howard would almost certainly be in a deep sleep by then.

 

 

A shuffling sound jerked Emmett out of sleep. There was someone coming down the stairs. He turned to shake Michelle awake and realized that she already was, breathing heavily and staring into the darkness. Michelle and Emmett crouched next to the door, which they had left ajar. Emmett felt like his heartbeat was so loud, Howard was sure to notice it.

The shuffling continued down the pantry hallway. Howard's footsteps, quieter than usual, inched closer and closer until he stopped at Emmett's mattress. The following minute hung there, nearly immobile, until a gunshot rang out and, simultaneously, the softer _pwoof_  sound of exploding pillows. Then, another gunshot.

Michelle squeaked, clasping her hands over her mouth.

Emmett's mouth hung open.  _He was going to kill you anyway_ , _you idiot._

For a moment they knelt there, shaking, until Howard turned on the hallway lights. A small strip filtered into Michelle's room.

"What the hell is going on?" Howard shouted, evidently realizing that Emmett's bed was empty.

Emmett scrambled to his feet and swung the bedroom door shut, then locked it, trembling.

"Howard has a key!" Michelle shrieked, peering over his shoulder. "He can get in!"

Emmett shrugged off his sling and tossed it to the ground. After a quick stretch of the arm, he darted to the nightstand and picked up the lamp, weighing it in his hands. "Grab something." He unplugged the lamp, removed the shade, and held the rest of it like a baseball bat.

Michelle approached him so they stood shoulder-to-shoulder. Emmett could feel Michelle's fear transform to determination when her back straightened. He didn't have time to see what she chose as a weapon, however, as Howard rattled the door and quickly unlocked it. Emmett crossed the room and stood at the ready, back against the wall, head turned toward the door. He clutched the lamp so hard his fingers ached.

Howard took a tentative step into the dark room, his form blocking the light from the pantry. He whispered, "Michelle?"

Emmett slammed the lamp into Howard's head. Howard groaned and dropped his gun. He sank to his feet and scrabbled blindly at the ground.

Michelle rushed forward, and Emmett realized she was carrying the entire nightstand. She released a primal scream and, in a feat of almost unbelievable strength, brought the nightstand crashing onto Howard's prone form. Howard slumped, unconscious.

Michelle, panting, reached down and picked up the gun. Emmett felt queasy as she lifted it and pointed it at the immobile body on the ground.

Michelle hesitated. "I-I thought this would be easier." Although she sounded nervous, Emmett had to admit that the weapon did not look out of place in Michelle's hands. In the rectangle of light streaming in from the hallway, shadows at her back, Michelle looked both ethereal and dangerous.

Emmett started to speak, but Michelle shushed him. "Don't say anything. I can do this. I can. I have before."

With that, she pulled the trigger.

The gun clicked. Michelle stared at it in confusion and then began to laugh, a high-pitched, manic sound.

"The motherfucker's out of bullets," she said between fits of giggles. "He's out of bullets."

Emmett felt himself laughing, too, although he wasn't sure why. "Then... Then what do we do?" His voice sounded weak.

Michelle instantly sobered up, although there were still tears of laughter running down her face. "What do we do?" she echoed, then looked up at the ceiling. "I have an idea."


	6. Chapter 6

Howard woke to a thunderous headache.

"Megan?" he croaked, opening his eyes.

His vision was blurry, but it only took a moment for Howard to realize that he was sprawled on the cold floor in the Girl's room.

Howard grunted and crawled to a seated position, dizziness keeping him from standing. His forehead felt stiff, and he reached up to touch a mass of dried blood and splinters of wood. More splinters, as well as glass fragments, littered the floor around him, as well as a crushed nightstand.

Howard saw his gun and lunged for it, then clutched it to his chest. He was panting. This was... not good. It was then he noticed the piece of paper that had been left under the gun. It was a perfume advertisement from one of those girly magazines he gave to Meg-- Michelle. It pictured a luminous blue bottle of liquid on a silvery gray background, but it was not the ad that interested him so much as the looping handwriting covering most of the page.

 

 _Howard_ , it started. 

 _You don't even deserve this letter but I figured what the hell, we might as well rub it in your face that we won._ _You're lucky we let you live after what you tried to do to Emmett._

_We were going to leave you outside so you could fend for yourself, but the bunker has too many bad memories for us (thanks to you) and we just can't stay here. We're going to leave and try to fight whatever is actually out there, so even if we don't make it, at least we got a choice. Fuck you for taking away our choice when we lived here._

Howard didn't like it when the Girl used that kind of language. He realized tears were running down his face, and he quickly wiped his cheeks and continued to read.

_We took some supplies and food and water. Your truck, too, so don't go looking for it (or us). You can have that woman's car if you want, but it might be covered in alien germs._

_If the world ever goes back to normal, I want you to know that I WILL NOT forget what you did to us (or to that poor girl)._

_-Michelle_

 

Howard crumpled the note and threw it across the room. His head ached. Ungrateful. That was what the Girl was. And Emmett, that rat. A pair of rats. He never should have let Emmett in. It wasn't a good idea to leave young boys and girls alone together. That was Howard's oversight, he admitted. He allowed Me--Michelle to be corrupted.

Howard eventually managed to combat the dizziness and make his way to the kitchen, where he downed two shots of homemade vodka. He turned on the jukebox and, without really listening to the Simon and Garfunkel song, sank to the ground and stared into the now-empty bunker.

 

 

Thirty miles away, Michelle stared down the road with bloodshot eyes, hands gripping the steering wheel like vices.

"Come on, Michelle. Let me drive. You have to sleep sometime."

Michelle shook her head roughly. "Just a little longer," she said. "I don't want to sleep just yet. _You_ can go back to sleep. Rest your arm."

Her head spun, and her heart still raced. She also realized, albeit in a detached way, that she stunk. So did Emmett. They both really needed showers.

"The day's not going to start over." Emmett's voice was soft. "You slept before Howard woke us up, didn't you?"

Michelle frowned and looked over at him. "I'm afraid that didn't count," she whispered.

"You're tired and you need to sleep," Emmett insisted. "I'll still be here when you wake up. I promise."

Michelle sighed and slowed the truck, eventually pulling over off the side of the highway. They hadn't yet passed any cars, but they had managed to avoid any otherworldly presence. For now, Michelle thought wearily.

They switched seats. Emmett pulled the truck back onto the road, and Michelle slumped into the passenger seat.

"Wake me up if you see any--" Michelle yawned, "any aliens."

Emmett snuck a glance at her before returning his eyes to the road. He patted Michelle on the shoulder. "I'm real proud of you. You did great back there." His voice was hoarse.

Michelle felt her eyes fill with tears, and she couldn't respond. Emmett seemed to understand.

Michelle rested her head against the back of the seat and allowed her eyes to close, the movement of the vehicle lulling her. Without opening her eyes, she reached out and grasped the hand of Emmett's that wasn't on the steering wheel. Maybe if she held on to it, it would keep her anchored here, keep her away from the bunker forever. The logic of the idea escaped her, but it was worth a shot.

She fell asleep with the hint of a smile on her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I appreciate the comments and kudos, and I hope you enjoyed!


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